Understanding
by dogsandcoffeepots
Summary: During the Year That Never Was, the Master's drawn to the Doctor's room when he hears him crying. They end up, less than nicely, discussing the time war. [Doctor/Master, dark themes]


**Title: Understanding**

**Summary: During the Year That Never Was, the Master's drawn to the Doctor's room when he hears him crying. They end up, less than nicely, discussing the time war.**

**Author's Note: This was written in response to a post on tumblr. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who. _**

* * *

><p>The Doctor was crying.<p>

The Master could hear the only other Timelord's sobs through the corridor of the _Valiant _as he headed towards his bedroom. He paused for a moment, just listening to the sound, almost relishing it. He could almost _feel_ the Doctor's unspoken agony in each gut wrenching sob of torment. His sharp mind picked up on the flickers of distress flitting through the air from the Doctor's brain, the harsh reality of his pain tugging at him, drawing him in.

The Master hesitated for just a second longer before back tracking and making his way back to where he'd left the Doctor several days before, reverted to his normal aged self, alone in a cold empty room. As he reached the right room, he reached out for the handle but did not enter immediately. He contemplated for a moment about how to play this. It was not the first time he'd heard the Doctor crying – it often happened at night when silent yet ever-present demons haunted his mind.

What scared the Master, however, was how familiar this all was. The Doctor, he was forced to admit, was not so different from himself at times like these. Were they not both plagued by personal terrors – fears which drove them both in different directions? Were they not both afraid of so many things but wearing masks to cover the fear, even if neither of them would admit it, even to themselves?

Deciding to reserve judgement until he'd seen the Doctor, the Master unlocked the door of the room and entered quietly, hanging back by the door, casually leaning back against the wall, arms folded, watching the other man carefully. The Doctor was lying on the floor of the empty room, curled up into himself with his hands over his face.

The only indication the Doctor gave that he knew the Master was present was that he forced himself to swallow the next couple of sobs, holding back defiantly, apparently determined not to be seen crying and vulnerable. The Master didn't care much for his pretence though and merely said, "You know, you don't need to pretend to me."

The Doctor sniffed loudly as he forced himself to sit up and face the Master properly. "W-why not?" he asked breathlessly watching him with eyes swollen and red from crying. "All either of us do is pretend."

At this, the Master smiled just slightly. He took several small steps forward, maintaining the causal air he held. "Do you think that's true?" he asked thoughtfully, turning to look at the other man. "We know more about each other than anybody else does."

"That doesn't make us honest," the Doctor retorted, sitting back against the wall and following the Master's every movement intently, his body shaking just a little from crying.

"No?" the Master queried. "I'm always honest with you."

"You're lying now," the Doctor pointed out darkly, straightening his tie a little without taking his eyes off the Master in what seemed to be a vain effort to make himself look more dignified.

The Master smirked a little, "Well spotted. Maybe you're right, Doctor. Maybe this is all just an act. But if it is... What a brilliant performance it is." He grinned broadly at his prisoner and crouched down opposite him. In an instant his expression changed into something darker. "Until one of us can't take it anymore."

The Doctor didn't reply to this. He did, however, meet the Master's gaze defiantly.

"Tell me, Doctor," the Master prompted, watching him with a patronisingly sympathetic smile. "Why were you crying? Was it the nightmares again?" He slowly reached forward and cupped the side of the Doctor's face in his right hand and watched his eyes for a moment. "You were sound asleep half an hour ago... Bad dreams? Tell me... Trust me..."

The Doctor flinched away from his touch, a flicker of irritation crossing his face for a moment before he answered, "I used to trust you... I haven't done for a long time though."

The Master pouted slightly, moving and sitting cross legged now with his hands clasped in his lap. "Tell me, Doctor..."

"You wouldn't understand," the Doctor retorted darkly, his knees pulled up to his chest.

"Oh?" the Master replied irritably, "Try me."

"The Time War," the Doctor told him bluntly.

"And why wouldn't I understand that?" the Master challenged, his body tensing.

"You weren't there," The Doctor said simply. "You don't know what it was like."

The Master just smiled at him, moving slightly and resting an elbow on his knee and his head in his hand with a fake air of casualness.

"I'd have thought you'd have loved that war though," the Doctor mused, watching him carefully.

"No," the Master replied simply, eyes flickering with anger. He hesitated for a moment however, and then asked, "Did _you_ enjoy it?"

"I..."

"Tell me," the Master snarled, moving forwards just slightly and looking at him seriously. He felt he needed to at least understand what had happened.

"I suppose at the time, I loved it," the Doctor admitted, looking away from him and focussing his gaze on the floor almost too ashamed to look at him. "Of course, I hate it now. I hate everything about that war. I hate what happened; I hate how it ended... All of it."

"You ended it," the Master pointed out quietly.

"I had to, and just because I did it, doesn't mean I like it." the Doctor snapped instantly glaring briefly at him before averting his eyes again. "I didn't expect you to understand..."

"Then _help _me understand," the Master told him abruptly. "I want to know..."

"You do?"

The Master smirked bitterly then, "I want to know what drove you to genocide."

The Doctor's hearts visibly broke. "I had to fight... It was my duty... It was _your _duty too! You should have been there. I couldn't ignore our people calling for help..." For a moment he seemed torn between denying the Master the information he wanted, desperate to protect both himself and the Master from reliving the horrors of the war but needing somebody to understand... He took a deep breath before finally speaking, "I could show you?" he asked with his brown eyes widening. "You need to understand... Let me show you!" he raised his hands with a worried expression and made to take hold of the Master's head.

The Master tensed slightly but didn't object, moving forwards obligingly and letting the other man place a shaky had either side of his face.

"If you want me to stop, just say..." the Doctor whispered as he carefully opened his mind, forging a connection between his own and the Master's. The Master gasped a little as he felt the long-since-used but not forgotten telepathic link burst open, every fibre of his mind suddenly alert and receptive. He carefully blocked his own memories and thoughts from the Doctor, filtering everything.

The Doctor however, seemed to have no particular desire to see inside the Master's head then. He simply wanted to show him. "Look," he whispered as he moved closer and sitting on his knees now, holding him still.

The images came before the Master had even had time to prepare himself for the onslaught.

"The chaos... The violence..." the Doctor whispered as he poured image after terrifying image into the Master's consciousness, sharing the emotion, the pain and even the sounds... the screaming, the crying, the yelling... The Master could hear all of it now. He could see everything. He heard the Doctor's voice almost from a distance as he spoke, almost narrating the memories he was showing the Master. "People were tearing each other apart just to stay alive. Fires were spreading right across the horizon, as far as you could see, destroying everything, burning _everything- _the city, the fields, the forests... Livelihoods burnt to the ground in minutes in some cases. Good people got lost in that war. Good, honest people became deceitful liars and ruthless murderers. People who you would have called friends would have killed you as soon as look at you. Can you imagine that, Master?" The Doctor spoke calmly as he told him this but his eyes were somewhat more distant – lost in the fires of Gallifrey, the same fires he was playing out in the Master's head, showing him everything – the planet they'd grown up on burning to the ground in a shared mental picture now.

The Master's breathing quickened slightly, sitting up straighter now, fists clenched in his lap as he watched the other Time Lord carefully. For a moment, he could barely speak, trying to keep himself from becoming what the Doctor was describing and trying to force the drums back out of his mind so he could think, ignoring the pressing thirst to know more and_feel _what the Time War had been. "Stop..." was all he could whisper by means of protest.

"I'd have thought you'd have jumped at the chance to fight," the Doctor wondered aloud as though he hadn't heard the Master's protest, "The chance to do you planet proud? To prove yourself? Wasn't it meant to be your destiny? You were meant to be the one who saved Gallifrey? You should have been there. You'd have loved it."

"Nobody loved that war," the Master retorted bitterly, trying to pull away from the Doctor, taking hold of his wrists now and trying to force him to let go.

"Oh, but we all did," the Doctor whispered as he watched the Master for his reaction. "I did too at the time. I was so caught up in the fighting and the _need_to survive." And the Master could see that now. He watched the endless battles running through his mind, feeling everything the Doctor feeling now and had felt during the war – the agony. "It wasn't a war against the Daleks really... In a lot of ways it was a simple fight for our own existence. There was nothing to be proud of there. _Nothing._" The images were burning into the Master's mind now. It hurt, oh, it hurt so much. He tried to block the Doctor from transferring his thoughts into his head but found he was essentially powerless against this attack.

The Doctor wasn't listening to him and the Master could tell when he carried on talking, "We had so much power though... So much control over everyone. You'd have liked that." The images playing now in the Master's head were again forced there by the Doctor, showing him how he – the Doctor – had stood tall amongst the chaos and burning at the very end of the war, watching everything burning, watching everything dying and being the only one still alive.

The Master could feel the Doctor's immediate emotions too and felt the other man becoming slowly more intoxicated by the echoed emotions from his past. He knew the Doctor was getting caught up in the euphoric rush of power and by Rassilon was he getting scared now. He struggled in the Doctor's grip slightly, trying to pull him off but he got nowhere.

What happened next caught him totally off guard. Before he knew what happened, the Master found himself forced backwards on to the ground, the Doctor straddling his chest, his knees pressing the Master's arms down so he couldn't fight back and couldn't push him off. Stunned, his concentration slipped and his carefully picketed defences against the Doctor's mental attack faltered, granting the other Time Lord deeper access into his mind, allowing him to force further inside his consciousness, increasing the intensity of the link.

"GET OFF ME!" the Master yelled in panic as he struggled helplessly. Suddenly his mind was filled completely by the image of his planet and his home burning and shattering. He could almost feel the heat of the fire from the Doctor's own memories and he could _feel _the resounding sorrow and collective terror that the entire planet felt, a deep emotional echo that tore at his hearts.

"You need to see this!" the Doctor snarled back at him, uncharacteristically harsh.

"NO!" the Master cried out as he struggled, feeling the Doctor's knees cutting off the circulation in his arms, making the fight even more difficult. "Let me go..."

"Just watch..." the Doctor breathed. His eyes were closed now as he focussed solely on channelling his memories directly into the Master's head and the other Time Lord could tell the Doctor was lost at the moment, too caught up in all the fighting. The Master had no choice but to accept this and watch the smouldering ash he'd once called home, watch as his people screamed and cried and begged for help, begged to be saved... But there was nobody to save them. There was nobody to answer the child who's wide blue eyes were filled with horrors no child should have seen. There was nobody to take the hand of the woman who couldn't find her way out of the fire. There was nobody to do offer the slightest bit of salvation... There was nobody that was going to escape this war... except the Doctor.

"Y-you should have died with them," he whispered, forcing himself to speak now, trying desperately to ignore the fires in his head. "You killed them all!"

A fist connected with his jaw then, along with the cry of, "Shut up! Shut up! I couldn't save them! I couldn't do anything to help them! I couldn't!" And then came the desperate stream of memories – the ones of home. Not just their planet this time, but the city the pair had grown up in. The Doctor was showing him all the childhood sights they'd known so well... The Academy, then their childhood houses, the oh-so-familiar streets and shops and even people, the forest of copper coloured trees that spanned all the way into the horizon where they'd once walked hand in hand, the mountains where they'd run together and then lay in the grass and spoken about _everything._Everything he showed him was burning.

The Doctor seemed to be relishing this – his eyes were focussed on the Master again, watching him for his reaction. "And you? You could have been our greatest weapon. How does it feel to know you could have helped? You could have stopped all of this..."

"D-don't!" the Master whispered desperately, trying to turn his head away as though that would stop the Doctor doing what he was doing. The second hand agony was paralysing him and spurring the drumming in his head on, making it louder and louder and every thought in his head was blurring into incoherency and fire and terror and fire and pain and fire and devastation and- "DOCTOR, GET OFF ME!" And he was sobbing. The Master found himself reduced to helpless tears as he found himself engulfed in the war and these memories that weren't his own but would be burned into his mind forever now.

To his surprise, he felt the Doctor's hands move away from his head and the sudden void in his head as he broke the mental connection they'd been sharing. The Master couldn't move though. He just stayed where he was even when the Doctor scrambled off and away from him, cowering in the corner of the room again in panic. He took a deep, shaky breath as he tried to stop the tears and tried to quieten the drums, regaining control of his own body.

"I-I'm s-sorry," the shaky whisper came from the corner of the room. The Master blearily opened his eyes once he noticed the change in the Doctor's tone of voice. He forced himself to sit up and look at the other Time Lord and saw him sat in the corner, his knees brought up to his chest, his hands clasped in front of his mouth, shaking slightly. Tears were dripping down his cheeks from wide, terrified brown eyes.

The Master's mouth fell open slightly but he didn't comment for a moment. He simply watched him with one hand pressed against his forehead as though trying to keep the pain back. The drums... the _drums_were driving him mad, inspired by the bloodshed and violence, _needing _him to fight, _needing _the destruction... "This is why I couldn't go!" he cried out suddenly, following on his own through process out loud. He elaborated slightly when the Doctor looked at him in confusion "The drums, Doctor, the drums! I couldn't go."

"I-I d-don't understand," the Doctor whispered looking very, very small as he cowered in the corner as though he was frightened of what the other might do next. Good, the Master thought bitterly, let him be scared.

"The drums are like... like a call to war... Making me fight," he struggled to explain, creeping closer to the Doctor and feeling vaguely smug when he cowered away from him. "I... I couldn't have controlled it. I wouldn't have been able to stop it... I-I don't _want _to be a monster." There. He'd said it. He couldn't quite meet the Doctor's gaze though but he could feel the other man watching him.

"Wh-what?" the Doctor stuttered, pulling his knees still closer against his chest in child-like fear.

"I'd have ended up like you. Worse than you even," the Master spat darkly. He looked up at him now, meeting his gaze defiantly as he spoke. "I'd have killed anyone who got in my way... The drums... The drums make me into a murderer."

It was clear the Doctor still didn't quite understand this concept. His tear-streaked face was clouded with confusion.

"Let me show you," the Master smirked as he moved close enough and forced the Doctor's legs apart to get close enough to him to take his head. The Doctor whimpered pathetically as the Master opened the connection again, in control of it this time. "Listen..." And then they could both hear the drums. They both felt the pain they brought with them, only familiar to one of them. "Can you feel it, Doctor? The call to war? The endless call to war? Gallifrey did this to me. They made me like this. They want me to fight. They made me a weapon, like you said... I can't go into a war knowing that... I couldn't let them use me. I couldn't have controlled it. I'd have become a ... mindless monster..." The Master for the moment was barely aware of the Doctor. He simply let his mind weave in and out of the drums, acknowledging them and feeling them engulfing his mind and probably the Doctor's mind too through the connection.

"M-Master?" the Doctor whimpered, trying to pull away from him. "D-don't... Please don't..."

"Listen though... Does it hurt? Does it? Can you feel them calling you to fight...?" And the drums were getting worse. The noise was deafening, revelling in the Master's pain and confusion.

"Y-yeah," the Doctor whispered. The Master could feel the other Time lord shaking violently and he could _feel _the terrified sobs wracking his body making his speech almost incomprehensible now. "P-Please! Stop!"

"NO!" the Master snarled, forcing himself into the Doctor's mind and rendering him totally incapable of retaliation, forcing the drums into his mind, burning the fibres of his consciousness and tearing apart his thoughts with the same, brutal rhythm: one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR, getting louder and louder and louder until-

He was screaming. The Master scrambled away from the Doctor, clawing at his head and yelling in indescribably agony. He couldn't muster up enough focus to allow himself to stand up and get away properly. He lost his balance in his haste to get away, grasping helplessly for anything to help support him. When nothing offered itself, he found himself curled up on the ground in the corner of the room, his knees brought right up against his chest, hands locked in his hair, tears streaming down his face.

The pain was debilitating. The drums were blinding him, deafening him, desensitising him to the room around him. He didn't know where the Doctor was and he didn't particularly care right then. He had a feeling he was still at the other side of the room, probably crying his pathetic little hearts out.

All the Master could do was lie still and hope it passed soon, hope the pain ended, hope it all went quiet... He couldn't stop the tears though. He couldn't control the desperate, helpless sobs tearing out of him and this made him feel worse. He couldn't stop, he couldn't help himself, he was powerless and vulnerable and scared and there was _nothing _he could do about it.

After what felt like an eternity the Master became aware the Doctor was now kneeling beside him, talking to him but not touching him. "Master? Listen to me...? Please listen to me..."

He couldn't think, he couldn't answer. He didn't _want_the Doctor to see this but he couldn't co-ordinate his mind enough to make his feelings known. He could only lie there, scared and exposed.

He listened helplessly to the Doctor's whispered reassurances, unable to do anything for what felt like hours. Eventually, he became more and more aware of his surroundings instead of feeling trapped in his own mind, conscious only of his body. "Can you hear me?" he heard the Doctor ask nervously, his voice full of exhaustion, sadness and fear. The Master was glad he was scared. So he should be, he thought. Although, part of him regretted just _how _scared the other man was.

"Y-yeah," the Master whispered, disgusted by how shaky and weak his voice sounded. He just lay on the ground, watching the Doctor carefully, one arm under his head, the other flopped beside him.

"Are you okay?" the Doctor asked quietly his voice shaking.

The Master chose not to answer this, sniffing slightly instead. He moved his hand from the floor and impatiently wiped the tears away from his sore, swollen eyes.

"Please... Speak to me...?" the Doctor begged desperately.

"What do you want me to say?" the Master said quietly, struggling to find the energy to hold a conversation. His mind and body where exhausted. Images of the war were still spinning around his mind while the drums kept up their constant barrage against his consciousness, quieter now but ever present.

It was the Doctor's turn to hesitate before answer now. He bit his lip for a moment, struggling to find the words before whimpering, "Forgive me?"

This, the Master hadn't been expecting. "Wh-what?" he asked, stunned.

"I'm... I'm so sorry," the Doctor whimpered with an unmistakable tremor in his voice, his big brown eyes full of unspoken emotion and agony. "For everything. I'm sorry about the way the war ended, I'm sorry about how we turned out... I'm sorry you hate me. I'm sorry I made you see it. I shouldn't have. I lost control. I'm sorry I'm not stronger. I'm sorry I can't be stronger for you. I'm just... I'm just sorry." It was then the tears started again – hot, agonised droplets dripping down his cheeks leaving pretty, glistening trails. "I'm so sorry!"

The Master stared at him for a moment, stunned into silence. "You're... You're sorry?"

The Doctor nodded, sniffling slightly, trying to hold back the tears but failing. "Please... Forgive me... Please..."

"Forgive you...?" the Master repeated, watching him carefully. As the Doctor nodded miserably, the Master forced himself into a sitting position, his entire body screaming in unspeakable exhaustion. "No."

The Master watched as the Doctor's expression crumpled into something altogether more devastating. The glimmer of desperate hope vanished from his eyes in less than a second and his face fell, empty sorrow etched into every line of his face. He instantly looked a lot older than he ever had done, every year of sadness visible in his eyes. "...Oh." One syllable of resounding sorrow and defeat...

This time, the Master took no particular pleasure from that. Yes, it made him feel powerful seeing the Doctor reduced to inescapable misery but right then, it wasn't what he needed. "...But that doesn't mean I don't understand..."

"But... forgive me?" the desperation was definitely still there. The Doctor moved slightly to take the Master's hand, clinging to him and staring imploringly at him.

The Master glanced briefly down at their hands but didn't pull away. "I can't," the he admitted, regret almost registering on his face. Part of him wanted to forgive the Doctor but he knew he wasn't ready for that. Not yet. "But I understand... And I'm asking the same of you."

The Doctor whimpered slightly, his grip tightening on the Master's hand. "I-I I do. I swear I do... And _I_forgive yo-."

"No," the Master cut across him sharply. "I don't want that. Not right now, Doctor. I'm not sorry enough to be forgiven..."

"...Oh..." the Doctor whispered, clearly lost for words, his eyes wide and sad.

"Then that's good enough for now, isn't it?" the Master said quietly, moving the Doctor's hand to his lips and kissing it gently. "Maybe we don't deserve to be forgiven but we_ do _deserve to be understood..."

The Doctor whimpered slightly as the Master's lips brushed over his fingers. He kept his eyes focussed on the Master's. "But I need-."

"Ssh..." the Master whispered again, gently moving the Doctor's hand to his cheek and holding it there. "It's too soon for that."

When the tears started falling down the Doctor's cheeks, and the sobs shook his body so much he couldn't even speak, the Master pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly against his chest. He kept one arm around the Doctor's waist, the other hand behind his head, keeping the Doctor's face against his neck. "I promise you, Doctor, I understand..."

And he did understand. That was why the Master stayed with the other man until the tears subsided and he went still in his arms. "I meant what I said, Doctor. I _do _understand..." He moved the Doctor's head and made him look at him, one hand either side of his face.

"So do I..." the Doctor said wearily. His cheeks were stained with hours' worth of tears and his beautiful brown eyes were bloodshot and sore.

"You do?" the Master asked, watching him seriously.

"I do. I... I... I'm almost glad this happened..." the Doctor admitted sadly.

Thinking for a moment, the Master nodded slowly, smiling ever so slightly. "You know what?" he whispered gently, moving closer.

"Wh-what?" the Doctor asked, nervous.

"Me too." And then he kissed him. The Master gripped the Doctor's head between his hands and kissed him passionately, desperately and it was oh-so-familiar and safe. The Doctor gasped slightly, but closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the other man's waist instinctively, holding him tightly, sharing the moment, sharing the feelings, sharing the desperation not to be alone with their thoughts...

And, just then, nothing else needed to be said...


End file.
